


Don't Doubt It, Don't Doubt It

by Delightful_I_Am



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt, M/M, Mentioned Allison Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8443033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delightful_I_Am/pseuds/Delightful_I_Am
Summary: Sometimes you have to let go in order to move forward





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy! This one took some serious effort. I'm talking hours and days and rewrites, and it's not even that big of a fic. But hot damn am I glad I managed to get this one out. It's a bit different from my original idea, which ended up being a tiny snippet in the middle of this, but I feel like it's an important snippet, so I'm happy.

Stiles sat on the edge of the bed, shaking his head to rid himself of what he was pretty sure was the worst dream he's had in a long time. His eyes were unfocused and there's a dull throbbing in the back of his skull; an incessant  _tap-tap-tap_ that is well on its way to sending him mad. He sighed as he stood up, swaying a little on his way to the closet. He was pulling on his jeans, fingers fumbling over themselves as he tried to button them up, when he heard the sound of someone moving about downstairs. A small frown creases his forehead; he'd thought he was alone in the house. He tiptoes down the hall, pausing at the top of the stairs to listen. A low voice is humming a soft tune, just barely audible over the sounds of something sizzling in a pan - _bacon?-_ and the steady whirr of the coffee machine. He makes his way quietly downstairs, peeking into the kitchen, trying to avoid being seen.

"I wondered if you were going to sleep all day." Derek sounds amused, not turning from the stove even when Stiles huffs and plasters himself across Derek's back.

"I'll sneak up on you one day, you know." Stiles pressed his face into Derek's neck and inhaled deeply, "Not all of us are blessed with werewolfy senses." He felt a laugh rumble through Derek's chest and smiled into his neck.

Dropping back on to his feet, Stiles pressed a kiss below Derek's ear. The coffee machine clicked off and a grin stretched across Stiles' face at the thought of fresh coffee. He stumbled a bit as he spun around, only Derek's hand snapping around his waist stopped him from falling over completely. Stiles poked his tongue out and Derek laughed, shaking his head fondly before planting a kiss on Stiles' forehead and turning back to the stove.

"Erica and Boyd are coming around later."

Stiles stopped pouring his coffee and turned to Derek, confusion settling over his features. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a particularly vicious stab of pain behind his eyes. He hissed and would have dropped the pot of coffee if Derek hadn't lunged and caught it just in time.

"You alright?"

"Hmm?" Stiles blinked up at Derek, trying to remember what they'd been talking about, "Uhh, yeah. Just... just a headache. I don't think I slept well... I had a weird dream I think. I'm fine"

"If you're sure?" Derek raised an eyebrow, his concern evident as he ran a hand through Stiles' hair. Thin black veins trailed up his arm and Stiles' knees buckled in relief. "Why don't you go sit down? I'll bring breakfast over to you in a minute."

Stiles just moaned softly in response and nodded his head, smiling when Derek gave him a gentle push toward the lounge room.

 

***

 

Erica whirled into the room, a smile on her face and a laugh on her lips, stopping only to wink at Derek and ruffle Stiles' hair before throwing herself down on to the sofa across the room. Stiles watched her, a smile on his face. He was just thinking about getting up when Boyd walked in, much more calmly than Erica.

"Hey Boyd!" Stiles waved at him, faltering when he saw what looked like a dark red stain spreading across Boyd's chest. "Uhh, dude... are you...?" Another sharp pain behind his eyes had him scrunching up his face and leaning into Derek's side with a gasp. He opened his eyes to find Erica and Boyd watching him warily. Erica looked pale, almost grey. Then he blinked and the pain leeched from his head with Derek's touch; the red stain on Boyd's shirt was coffee, he could see that now, and Erica's complexion was its usual colour. He sighed. "Sorry guys. Killer headache. Ignore me."

They smiled and their tense postures relaxed; Stiles missed the look that passed between them.

"I'm gonna go find a shirt that wasn't attacked by a latte." Boyd laughed as he spoke. It grated on Stiles' ears for some reason.

"The spare room has stuff in it, dude." Stiles draped himself further over Derek's lap, "Knock yourself out."

Derek's fingers tangled in Stiles' hair and he took the opportunity to tune out the conversation around him, focusing instead on the feel of fingers in his hair and the quiet rumble of Derek's voice curling around him like a warm blanket. He could quite happily spend every day like this; curled up with Derek, surrounded by friends, soft sunlight streaming through open windows. He sighed contentedly and stretched out, hanging a leg off the arm of the couch, the other dangling down beside him, toes brushing the floor. Yes, he could happily spend all his time like this.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, he was alone on the couch and the sun slanted in at a different angle. He shook his head a little, the headache subdued but still very much present, and looked around for the others. He saw them all standing in the kitchen, Derek was paused in the process of grabbing something out of a cupboard and Erica was leaning on Boyd, a grin frozen on her face. Stiles got up with a jerk - _what the hell?-_ He staggered under a burst of pain and when he looked up again, everyone was moving and Erica's laugh cut through the air. It was like someone had suddenly hit play again and all his senses slammed back in; he reeled in the overwhelming press of sight and sound, the taste of copper on his tongue. He was acutely aware of the texture of the couch arm under his fingers. Derek sent a dazzling smile over at him and he bounced into the kitchen, all thoughts of his headache gone.

"Erica was just saying Scott and Allison had invited us all to dinner." Derek's smile softened into something a little more personal, like Stiles was the only one in the room with him. Stiles smiled back, but something nagged at the back of his mind.

"Allison?" Three heads snapped around to stare at him and for a second, Stiles was sure that red stain was back on Boyd's shirt, and... did Erica have a  _bruise?_ "But wha-" He cut off with a groan as his head throbbed, even more painfully than before and he clutched his head in his hands, a small whimper falling from his lips. Derek was by his side in a second, murmuring quietly as he cupped his face gently, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones.

"I think we might miss dinner tonight, sorry guys." Derek's voice was soft.

Stiles vaguely registered the sound of Erica and Boyd leaving; the quiet snick of the door closing seemed to shut something in Stiles' mind at the same time. Or maybe that was Derek draining the pain from his head. He sighed and curled into Derek's chest, wrapping his arms around his neck when he felt himself being lifted by strong arms. He thought he heard Derek murmur something that sounded like  _too soon,_ but he was too busy breathing in a scent that was solely Derek. A scent that was like the forest and lazy summer afternoons and sunshine filtered through leaves. 

 

***

 

They lay tangled together, Stiles resting on Derek's chest listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat; Derek was drawing lazy patterns on Stiles' back, a contented smile on his face. Stiles looked up at Derek, propping his chin up on his hand. Derek opened one eye and grinned at him.

"You're staring at me."

"Can you blame me? You're worth staring at." Stiles winked at him, "And I don't know why, but I just want to look at you as much as I can. Just in case."

Derek huffed a laugh and gently disentangled himself from Stiles, stretching as he stood up.

"Well, I certainly can't stop you staring at me." Stiles levered himself up off the bed after Derek, snaking his arms around his waist and dropping a kiss on the back of his neck.

"I want to touch you as much as I can too." The words were mumbled into the fabric of Derek's shirt, but he heard them all the same. Of course he did. Werewolf hearing.

Derek turned around in Stiles' arms and rested their foreheads together, he gripped Stiles' hips and closed his eyes. Stiles smiled and melted into his touch, kissing Derek, soft and sweet. There was a small frown on his face when he pulled back, something niggled at the back of his head, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it; it caused a sharp pang in his chest though and he took a step back, letting Derek's hands fall away.

"What's wrong?"

 "I don't..." Stiles shook his head against visions of Boyd lying on the ground, of Scott cradling Allison. Of Derek walking away from him and the pack watching Stiles with sad eyes. He blinked and the thoughts were gone. He grinned up at Derek. "Don't worry about it. Just that headache still."

"If you're sure?" Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles blinked at the feeling of deja vu.

"Yeah just... Just don't leave... okay?"

Derek smiled at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly. "I'm not going anywhere Stiles. I would never leave you."

Stiles' heart sank, the steady beat tripping over itself for a second. Confusion flitted across Derek's face when he saw the tears in Stiles' eyes.

"You already did." His voice was a broken whisper.

Stiles wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing tight, trying to hold himself together. He only had a moment to see Derek's eyes flash gold -  _wrong -_ before he found himself in the preserve, screaming, tears running down his face as he clutched his head in his hands.

 

***

 

"-iles!  _Stiles!"_ Scott voice was panicked as the sounds of snarling and cries of pain filtered back in.

"Scott?" His voice was weak to his own ears. "What-?"

"A witch." The word was a snarl.

Stiles blinked, looking at Scott through the tears still falling from his eyes. "Help me up."

Scott hauled him up, an arm around his waist; Stiles tried to ignore the pain in his head, eyeing the scene in front of them warily. Kira was unconscious, Malia was crouched over her, snarling at a figure across the clearing. Liam was nursing what looked like a broken arm and Lydia was on the ground, panting and looking for all the world like someone who was only barely holding onto consciousness. Stiles growled, a pale imitation of a werewolf, but it got his point across.

"Scott, now would be a great time to let me go." His voice was tight, and Scott recognised the barely controlled anger. He stepped away, hand lingering for a moment to make sure Stiles was going to stay upright. Stiles raised his eyes to the person across the clearing.

"Hey fuckface!" Stiles' voice rang out. "Nice try asshole, but you really need to work on your execution."

Scott choked out a strangled laugh that sounded a lot like  _Christ, Stiles_ and the person hidden in shadows stalked out into the open. The man had a feral grin on his face, but his clenched fists betrayed his anger.

"Well well." His voice was smooth as silk and entirely not what Stiles was expecting. "That's almost impressive, Stiles. Tell me, what gave it away?"

"See the trick to a really good illusion..." Stiles spoke calmly, taking a step forward, "Is in the  _details."_

The witch scoffed and took a step forward, sneering at him. Stiles grinned viciously back as his fingertips tingled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer night; he flexed his hands and rolled his neck to loosen it, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the sneer dropped off the witch's face as doubt cracked his confident veneer.

"What the hell?"

"Ohhh! Scotty!" Stiles turned his head to Scott, looking suddenly wolf-like in the way he tilted his head. "I don't think our friend here realised just who he's dealing with."

Scott stared wide-eyed at him, and even Malia, Liam and Lydia seemed to shrink back from the force of his gaze. Lydia's necklace flashed, catching the light from his eyes, which he knew were an unnatural shade of luminescent amber, far more intense than his usual colour.

"Dude, I don't think  _we_ know who he's dealing with." Scott's whisper is just barely loud enough to be heard and it causes Stiles to smile, a feral thing that is entirely too much teeth to be comforting.

"Let's see how you like your mind being messed with." Stiles flicked his eyes back to the witch and watched as he screamed and clutched his head, blood trickling from his nose.

Stiles looked dispassionately, ignoring the harsh gasps from the pack. Ignoring the way Scott took a small step backwards. He fully intended to make this witch  _suffer._

"See, you almost had me." His voice was cold. "Really, I mean, well done. Really quite inspired. Boyd and Erica were a nice touch, although you should really have paid more attention to them, their true states kept slipping through. But you still could have pulled it off, even with the mention of Allison. Throw enough information at someone and they get swept up in it." 

Stiles picked some dirt from his fingernails, anyone looking at him would swear he was  _bored_ with what was happening.

"Of course, you got a little ahead of yourself. Easy enough mistake to make, really, and if you'd been doing that little trick on one of the others, you might have succeeded." Stiles looked up and the cold gleam of his eyes sent a shudder through the watching pack. "But see, the thing about it was... well... It was clever, using Derek. I do have to commend you on that. You even got his  _scent_ right. I don't think even  _Scott_ could have gotten that detail right, and he _knows_ Derek, after all. His little werewolf nose knows Derek's scent. Yes quite clever, using him. He's not here, so I wouldn't have been able to focus on him to pull out of the vision. That was the plan right? What it all hinged on?"

He narrowed his eyes at the witch and flicked his wrist. The witch's screams echoed louder around the clearing.

"Of course, that was your downfall. Because, you see.  _Derek isn't here."_ He hissed the last part, his anger practically dripping from his tongue. "Derek left.  _I watched him leave._ And then you went and had your little dream version say he'd never leave me. And that's where you blew it. If he'd just said he wasn't going anywhere, I might have believed it. God knows I want to believe that."

He laughed, a low humourless sound.

"But he said he'd  _never_ leave me.  _Never._ But he already  _did_ leave. And that's not the sort of thing someone can forget." Stiles' voice went soft, hurt. "No matter how much they might want to."

A flicker of movement in his peripheral had him snapping his head to the side, eyes boring into the trees. A tall shadow, darker than the night, broad shoulders. A shimmer of an icy blue.

 

***

 

"No." The word was almost a sob. "No it's not real. It's not real."

"Stiles?" Scott's concerned voice cut through the now silent clearing. The witch lay writhing on the ground, ragged gasps the only sound from him now.

" _No!_ It's not  _real!"_ Stiles barely registered the sharp pain of his knees slamming to the ground as his hands clenched in his hair. He whimpered, hunching in on himself. "It's not real. It's a trick. He's gone.  _He left and he's not coming back!_ He's gone. It's not real. It's not-" He broke off, the air not seeming to reach his lungs no matter how hard he tried to breathe. He was rocking now, eyes screwed shut and fingers pulling painfully at his hair. "No no no no  _nonononono."_

"Stiles?" Scott's hand grazed his shoulder and he  _screamed._ A pulse of wind pushed Scott away; Scott dropped back with a curse as the witch tumbled a few feet along the ground and the rest of the pack cried out.

"It's not real. He's not real. He's not real. He's gone. He left.  _He left me._ He- he left-" Strong arms wrapping around him had Stiles screaming again; a wind, more powerful than before, ripped through the clearing but the arms just held on tighter. Stiles' voice was growing hoarse and his throat ached and his head  _hurt._

"Let go, Stiles. You have to let go, so you can come back." That voice. That voice couldn't be here. "Come back to me." The last a whisper. A broken whisper that had Stiles sobbing, all the tension leaving his body, the power that had been coursing through him gone as suddenly as turning off a tap. He collapsed back into the body behind him; his arms covered his head and he curled into the warmth of an impossible dream.

"You're not here." His voice was rough and broken, "You're not real. You're not real."

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Derek." His name was a whimper, nearly too quiet even for the wolves.

"I'm here. I'm here and I'm so sorry." The pain in Derek's voice had Stiles crying; harsh, jagged noises that tore from his throat and chest. He couldn't dream that pain. Whenever he dreamed of Derek it was to dream him happy and whole. Not hurt. And certainly not hurt because of  _him._

Stiles clung to Derek, fingers clenching around his leather jacket. Nothing had ever felt so  _real_ as that leather jacket did right at that moment. Derek was making soft soothing noises, and he clung to Stiles just has hard, if not harder than Stiles was holding him. It felt an eternity before Stiles' breathing was even and his hiccuping sobs had quieted to the occasional mewling whimper. Derek finally started to rise, picking Stiles up effortlessly and cradling him against his chest.

"Scott." Derek's voice was low, tired. "Deal with the witch. Kill him, send him packing, I don't care. But if he  _ever_ comes near us again, I will rip him to shreds."

"I'm sure we can work something out." It was Malia who spoke, and there was steel in her voice, the words barely above a snarl.

Stiles felt Derek grunt an acknowledgement as he walked away, clutching him just that little bit tighter. Stiles fell asleep on the way home, lulled by the rhythmic motions of Derek walking quietly through the forest, and the steady beating of his heart.

 

***

 

Soft voices woke Stiles the next day and he took a moment to think that his dreams last night had been particularly awful. His subconscious had really pulled out all the stops with the latest round of fuckery. He groaned as he became aware of a whole host of aches and pains.  _Even his toes were sore._ The voices had cut off with the sound of his pain, and quick footsteps raced down the hall before his door was flung open and someone was kneeling beside his bed.

"Stiles?"

At the sound of Derek's voice, Stiles gasped and sat up, biting off a choked sound before it could escape. He brought his hands up in front of his face and counted his fingers.  _Ten. Oh God there are ten._ He counted them again. And then again just to be sure. He was about to count them for a fourth time when strong warm hands clasped his gently. He whimpered and stared at the hands; he didn't dare raise his eyes and risk being crushed again.

"Stiles look at me." That pained whisper was a stab to the gut. "Please."

Stiles slowly raised his eyes, letting them travel up the strong arms, resting briefly on shoulders that were tense with worry. He faltered when he reached Derek's jaw; he couldn't quite bring himself to look up those last few inches. This was a very well executed dream. So he was unprepared when Derek ducked his head just enough to capture Stiles' eyes in his gaze. That multi-hued, indescribable gaze that he'd never thought he'd get to see in real life again. His hand moved almost of its own accord, sliding up Derek's arm, following the path mapped out by his eyes, until it rested on the side of Derek's neck. He could feel the pulse beating there, fast but steady, and he had to close his eyes and swallow back a sob.

"You're real. You're here." He let out a shaky breath. "Please be real."

"I'm real. I'm real and I'm here."

Stiles leaned forward and rested his forehead on Derek's, fingers digging in slightly on his neck. He wasn't even aware he was crying until he felt gentle fingers wiping at his cheeks.

"Don't leave me." His voice was small and broken. "Please please don't leave me."

Derek pulled away, his hands cupping Stiles' face as he waited for Stiles to look at him before he answered. After a long moment, Stiles opened his eyes, blinking through the tears and giving him a shaky smile. Derek smiled back, a small, gentle thing meant just for him.

"Not until you want me to. Maybe not even then."

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I missed anything in the tags, obviously I didn't want to give the whole thing away, so I was pretty sparse with the tags.


End file.
